In the Embers
by FrozenSoldier
Summary: One Shot: Daryl Dixon doesn't regret...except when it's about her.


**This is set a few months after they left the farm. Hope you like it!**

**Thank you to Carla and Nic for pre-reading, and to time_lights for creating the gorgeous banner (which is posted on tumblr).**

**Disclaimer: I own my shipper heart and nothing more.**

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**In the Embers**

Daryl Dixon hated thinking about the past.

Reflecting on his life was pitiful, and looking back only served as a reminder that no one ever really cared enough to stick around. There wasn't anything back there for him, anyway, certainly not his drunken father or good for nothing mother he could barely remember, and the few good things about Merle were easily overshadowed by the downright awful.

His past held nothing he wanted to recall, and his future was not going to be anything to brag about.

That was until he stopped having to live, and started having to _survive_.

It was then his future abruptly held a _purpose_ he never felt before. The new world gave a twisted sense of promise; told him this was where he really belonged, as though all those years of hunting and living like a nomad was simply preparation for what was to come.

With this new sense of purpose, however, came something that wasn't a welcomed addition at all.

_Regret_.

Daryl had made a point in life to accept things for what they were, to get his shit together once it was over and move on. What was done was done, and he planned to keep it that way. Yet in a world made up of one bad thing after another, where every decision could come back and bite you in the ass, it was suddenly harder to disregard.

It hadn't meant a damn thing before, just some stupid sentiment people carried around with them, and it didn't mean shit now…except when it was about _her_.

Daryl poked at their small campfire. It was a constant motion, while the force varied in tandem with the images that happened to flash through his mind. It didn't help that the night was particularly calm, so quiet that his mind was able to wander.

Everything had started as it always did. They'd come across a decent place to stop until morning, using the cars as a makeshift wall around them. The fire was set, and despite the cold night, the group fell asleep quickly, including Daryl, who managed to catch a good few hours before being woken to take over the watch.

All was running smoothly until his eyes had roamed over the group and landed on Carl, curled up between his parents. It wasn't so much the boy that triggered it, more the girl who should have been there, asleep in her mothers arms.

Soon after, it was into the deep recesses of regret that his mind wandered.

For he regretted many things about Sophia Peletier.

T-Dog would have died that day on the highway had he not been there, and he couldn't imagine ever wanting to take that back…yet he couldn't help but ask _what if_. What if he'd been closer to the group when the herd passed through? He would have gone after her, gone after Rick, if he'd been there. The walkers would have been dealt with, and Rick would have carried her back, erasing both their guilt.

Yet he wasn't there, and he failed to find her on the only day they could have.

The rough edges of the wood dug into his palm as he let the fire receive the brunt of his frustration. It wasn't rational to want to blame himself for not being there when she ran, and he knew in his heart that he'd done all he could to find her…nevertheless, it didn't ease that sense of regret he was burdened with, and he knew why.

It was there because he still had one more thing he wanted to change, and it was something far simpler than saving a life. So simple that people of the old world would have related to it, even if his older self had snubbed the mere thought of it.

"Daryl?"

The sound of her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, his arm wavering mid stroke. He glanced to his right to find the pale blue eyes of his usual watch buddy flickering between his hand and face.

It was ironic, that she would be his only witness.

"You're stabbing at that fire like there's a walker in there. Is something wrong?"

Daryl absorbed her familiar concern for a second or two, biting his lip and wondering what he should do next. He jabbed at the fire for good measure, hoping to leave his frustration in the burning embers before he spoke to her.

Merle would box him around the ear if he heard that Daryl was contemplating talking about his feelings and regrets like some girl. Except his brother wasn't there, and the hell if he was ever gonna fall under that category.

By the time he made up his mind, Carol had gone back to admiring his shoddy needlework on the horse blanket he'd turned into a poncho. She looked amused and somewhat impressed that he had done it himself instead of coming to her the way everyone else seemed to.

There wasn't going to be any teasing or remarks, though, albeit he most likely deserved them. She always knew when to keep quiet and let him be.

His silence usually meant he wanted to leave it that way, but tonight, it meant something more.

"You remember the day we left the CDC, and we got to that nursin' home." He waited for a response, when he knew she hadn't forgotten. "The place was overrun…dead bodies everywhere…and we didn't know if there were a bunch of geeks holed up in the next room. Sophia, she was crying, and I-"

Though words failed him, and always would, the point was made.

He watched her from the corner of his eye, taking in the silent stare and motionless body. She could remember the threat he growled just as easily as he did.

_Shut her up, or I will_.

He was back to stabbing the fire as though he hadn't stopped.

The words had come so effortlessly, slipping passed his lips quicker than a scowl could form on his face, and he hated himself for it. What would he have done? Raised his fist? Threatened her the way his father had threatened him as a boy? The worst part was he hadn't even felt bad about it, being too pissed off at Lori and the others for not understanding that a child's cry could bring every walker down on them.

Now there he was, feeling the repercussions of that one decision, and yeah, it sure was doing a good job of biting him in the ass.

"I saw the way she looked at me after, like I was somethin' to fear." His mouth formed a bitter grimace when Carol still didn't move. "It was the last thing I - - I shoulda said somethin'…I'm sorry."

The lump in his throat caught him off guard, made him self-conscious in his own body to the point he didn't know how to hold himself. This guilt was new to him, having never wanted to take back something said in anger up until a few months ago. He couldn't even tell what part was worse to know the last thing he said to her was a threat his younger self had vowed never to say to a child.

A soft hand covered his, forcing him to release the death grip and allow the piece of wood to fall between them.

Finally, she spoke. "I can't tell you it didn't upset her, but she wasn't scared of you. Sophia knew you could be trusted."

"Yeah?" He grunted faintly, not wanting to offend her, but not seeing how that could be true. "How's that?"

"Because I never told her she couldn't," she replied plainly. "I told her to stay out of your brother's way, and out of Shane's…she learned to stay out of her daddy's way all on her own, but I had a feeling I could trust you to keep us safe if something happened."

"You didn't know me," he said, whether a statement or an accusation, he couldn't tell. Probably both. She didn't know what he was capable of, what he would have done, had Merle continued to pull his strings instead of getting cuffed on that roof.

His eyes narrowed at her barely concealed smile. After months of her constant presence at his side, he still couldn't fathom where her faith in him came from, and that damned smile of hers told him she knew exactly what he was thinking.

At least until it faded away and she cast her gaze to the flames.

"I was with Ed for nearly twenty years, you know. I learned to recognise the signs, I had to…and Shane? He didn't care about us. We were protected because he was protecting Lori and Carl. If we got split up from them, he wouldn't have spared us a second thought."

Carol's execution was spot on, hitting Daryl with a sudden clarity. He never saw himself as a good man, with too many dark places in his past to contradict it, but what was he, compared to them? Compared to the men who hadn't given a damn about an innocent little girl?

To that, he was utterly confounded.

It wasn't news to him that Shane only had two priorities, and how nothing and no one hadn't been worth sacrificing in order to keep them safe. Had it been up to the ex cop, they would have left the hunt for Sophia the very next day.

"You're right to say I didn't know you, but I knew the kind of man Merle was. Controlling, dominant, abusive…it was like looking at Ed, but worse." She pulled the poncho tighter, appearing smaller at the mention of her piece of shit husband.

He had to stop his own muscles from tightening at the mention of Merle.

"It was just you and your brother; no child, no younger sibling you had to protect. You didn't owe him anything, and you certainly didn't owe us."

She sighed quietly, her voice taking on a gentler tone. "I lost count how many nights my baby went to bed with food in her belly because of you. It would have taken you an hour at the most to gather enough for what you needed, yet you always stayed out longer to bring something back for the rest of the camp."

He shrugged, knowing she would see right through him. "Ain't like any of y'all knew how to hunt."

The truth was those trips into the forest were as much of an escape as they were a necessity. He couldn't sit around camp and do nothing, and there wasn't a chance in hell he was cooking himself something to eat while those kids went hungry.

Merle had spat a whole string of abuse when he realised Daryl was looking for bigger game, having always gone by the life's motto of not helping anyone that wasn't kin.

"_They don't give a damn about you, baby brother_!" he'd shouted after him. "_They just gonna leave you in the dust once they find something better, just like everyone else_!"

It was one of the few times he hadn't let Merle shadow his decision. His final words had hit a little too close to home, and he was glad of that harsh reminder now. Remembering that his brother had been just another of the people to leave him was the only thing that stopped him from giving in.

He hadn't expected his brother to understand, anyhow. Merle might have forgotten what it was like to go hungry as a child, but he certainly hadn't.

Those kids had gotten to him, as much as he wished they hadn't. There was no way he could have let it happen, regardless of the fact their parents couldn't care less about the fate of the Dixon brothers, just as old Merle said.

"What about when you were out looking for her every day? Are you going to make up an excuse for that, too?"

Daryl blinked and pulled himself out of the past. There was no challenge in her tone, no acidity. It was just as she labelled it, and she knew that. He was pretending as if he hadn't cared, and she'd seen right through that, as well.

"Ain't got no excuse. S'you I was doing it for."

He shrugged awkwardly, squinting at her in the dark and growing uncomfortable with the way she was looking back. It wasn't even that he didn't like it, just that he didn't know how to reciprocate. So he reached for the spare firewood and threw it into the flames, giving him an excuse not to look at her as he spoke.

"What else could I have done for ya, 'cept find your little girl."

That was the bare truth of it. He hadn't a single thing else to offer, still didn't, in his eyes.

Back then, he imagined what it would have been like, had he stepped out of the trees with a weak, but very much alive Sophia in his arms. How it would have changed things. It kept him going, that image; it made him want to do what his father hadn't and her father wouldn't.

He also fully understood why that image crushed him when she stepped out of the barn with the bite on the same shoulder she was told to follow.

For the second time, Carol placed her hand over his. "We have to focus on the future. Please don't dwell on what was out of our control. You did what you could with the time you were given, which was more than anyone has ever done for me and my daughter."

His fingers twitched under her palm as he fought the urge to bolt across camp and hide in the shadows. He used to hate praise as a child, too; he never felt worthy, and he was struggling with it even now, despite the sincerity in her voice.

"I don't know if it's forgiveness you're after, for what you said that day," she went on, forcing him to swallow his negativity, "But know that you've made up for that a hundred times over."

Her free hand went to the cross around her neck, the way he assumed it did whenever she thought about Sophia. Dixons didn't believe in God, never had and never would, but Carol made him believe there was something more out there, for the good ones, at least, because he couldn't imagine Sophia being anywhere else.

"My little girl couldn't be saved," she said in barely a whisper, and knew she was crying as though the tears were slipping down his dirt stained face. "But you have saved her momma in so many different ways."

The rest of the camp faded away, the world becoming pinprick small as her words sunk in. There wasn't anything he could say, nor would he ever be eloquent enough to do so, but when he found the courage to free his fingers and curl them around hers, it all became clear.

Merle had never been more wrong to say that no one would ever care for him. These people, and this woman who was smiling at him with tears in her eyes, was proof of that.

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When morning came, and Daryl put out the fire that he and Carol had eventually fallen asleep by, it was more than just his frustration he left in the embers. He would not dwell, and he would not regret, not anymore, because Carol was right. The future was what mattered, but he would continue to make it up to her until the very end.


End file.
